So my friend tells me that my life story is very funny. At least the last five years. Why? "Because the things that have happened to you are funny," he said. These "Things" he is talking about are all because of a nosy neighbor across the street who thinks I'm in the mob. To you maybe that's funny. But not to me.
I don't know...maybe if it was happening to someone else and I was watching it, maybe then it would be funny. But I lived this crap. I still don't know how my neighbor came to believe I was in the mob in the first place. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I mean, I'm Italian, I'm rich -because I took an enormous buyout for my family business- and I used to be in the "waste management" business. So what, I have this in common with Tony Soprano and that makes me a Capo?
So I asked myself, "What is it about Mob stories that people love, anyway?" Do they love the crime? Do they love corruption and sociopaths with personality disorders? Hell no!
They love family.
They love respect.
They love tradition.
Maybe they love power. I guess everyone dreams of being powerful sometimes. But they don't go around wishing they could kill someone and then cut them to pieces in a butcher shop and carry their head around in a bowling bag. Okay, maybe the sociopaths among us do...but they're a tiny minority. The average person loves these stories not because they are mob stories, but because they are Italian stories.
Because we are a very funny people. Funny on purpose and funny by nature. All those great things you watch on "The Godfather" and wish were true about your own life...those are Italian things. Not Mob things. We are loud, funny, wisecracking, loving, fun-loving, gregarious people. We love to eat and sing and drink a little bit. We love our family and we love our friends. We pretty much love everyone until they give us a reason not to love them. We cling to tradition and stay close to home. At least on Sundays, right? We pass down recipes and war stories and love them both.
We're proud of who we were and who we are.
THAT is why people love mob stories. Because of those great family scenes. Dinner tables with 25 people and a mountain of food and loud, funny, occasionally heated conversations. And a lot of love.
Admit it...I hit the nail on the head didn't I? Yeah we joke about making someone an "offer they can't refuse" but when the chips are down, we don't resort to our personal Luca Brasi. We make an offhanded remark about putting a horse head in someone's bed, but none of us could really do that to a horse. Naaah. What we really love is that dinner scene and the wise "Momma" saying "Santino...don't interfere." and Sonny instantly quieting down. We try making gravy the way Peter Clemenza taught Michael Corleone to do it. We love Don Corleone not because he could brutally dispatch someone, but because he was wise about the whole "Solazzo business."
Nobody wants to be a mafia man...not really. But everybody wants to belong. Everybody wants to have lifelong friends who will always be there. Everyone wants tradition and history to rely on.
That is why we love these stories.
Maybe, in the end, that's why the old man across the street insisted I was in the mob. Maybe he needed me to be. Maybe underneath all his fear and suspicion...he wanted to belong to something big too.
No comments:
Post a Comment